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SECOND EDITION OF 



' e Ozark Harpist 



By 



ALYS HALE 

Poe^^ Rclectic Philosopher and 
Soul Scientist 




Author of 

The Revealed Mystery of 

Poe's Raven 



THE TUNE OF THIS HARP SHALL 
RING OUT THROUGH THE AGES 






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Inspired Poet None Greater 




ALYS HALE 
At Tw£;nty-five: Ye;ars of Age 



AivYS Hale was disinherited of many thou- 
sands of dollars because of her principles for 
Ri^ht and advanced ideas. 

Yea, verily if a child dare to walk in its own 
light, it will suffer parental injustice. 



Sing on my harp. 

Sing on some more and ever^ 
For sweet souls are breaking^ 
And fond hearts are aching^ 

Sing on some more and ever! 



By transfer 
The White House. 



Sing on through the thousand 
years my harp; 

Sing on while life is bringing 
Joy and Hope on Heaven 'j rope^ 

Stng on till Christs be singing. 



The Ozark Harpist 



Crangitorp Loue^ 

Oft have I seen with saddened eyes, 

The force of love in its trancing, worldly guise. 
As it seized its victims on precipice steep, 
And hurls them into the waters deep ; 

Then lashes them o'er 

With mad waters which roar 
While the wild cataract on them its torrents doth pour — 

Thus driving out Reason and goodly song; 

Revellings and weepings all the day long. 

O, many a time has this love-throne 

Shook and trembled when love had flown. 

And always and ever, and deep as earth's sea, 
Will this love come forth from the shadows that be 

For this is the love that is born for men — 

But not the love that will be when — 

We sense the life through the golden gate ; 

But many for that love will be too late, 
For the sweet, mad love of this pulsing sphere. 
Is the only love w'here Hearts do adhere. 

Ah ! this love that calls and calls with such sway, 

Is the love that grows old, and feeble, and gray. 

O, this love will drown life's years with tears ; 

And in its triumph it will send its fears 
To numb and deaden, to drive insanely mad — 
For this love will rob life of all that it had. 

It gives but to take in its own wilful measure, 

And sustains or deserts at its own good pleasure. 

O, this demon, love, with its luring fire, 

Sings to the heart with its trancing lyre. 
Till the Heart is stirred, is drawn for awhile, \ 

And ashes, more ashes, are heaped on the pile. 

And often, so often, hath this love a bo-will, 

And ever and so often doth it shatter its thrill. 



THE OZARK HARPIST 



So, oft I've seen with saddened eyes, 
Love crushed in its garden of Paradise. 

Oft and ever so often I've seen 

Love coming forth from a false, dazzHng sheen. 

And O, there are times when with sad, moist eyes, 
I've seen Love trampled under, from out the skies. 

And then again with glad surprise, 

I've seen this love go contrawise. 

Joined with a link so good and strong. 
That life gave forth triumphant song. 

And this is the love where the well is deep, ' 

Fed by the water's filtering seep. 

A_nd this is the love which doth surely last 
Through all eternity, through all time past. 



O, the conflicts and the battles ! 

That this old earth hath endured, 
From her children whom she ever 

Has a love so fond ensured. 

But her children have most ever 
Gone to Mars for council strong; 

And they come back always eager 
To begin the battle long. 

She would send them to Minerva, 
To drink wisdom from her bowl ; 

But they never seem to heed her 
And her tears do downward roll. 

Mother Tellus, cease lamenting. 
For your wayward children here ; 

When they fight their long, long battles, 
You get many back, so dear — 

W'hen your children fall around you. 
With the bullets in their breast. 

As the life-blood issues from them. 
Then they turn to thee for. rest. 

Tellus was an ancient name for the earth. 



THE OZARK HARPIST 



i5imf)tt tip 3n anger$ mim. 

I had spent the nig^ht in bright Sin's halls. 

A youth was I, at the age where nature calls 

Loudest and strongest to the earth-made pole, 
And I kept the pace with a death ridden soul. 

I had fed on sin till my heart was sick ! 

And I longed to die, and die right quick ! 

O, I had dived in the waters of Sin's sweetest joy, 
But found that wild river was death to a boy. 

I raised a phial to my lips 

And beckoned a boatman with wide oar-dips 
To ferry me over the stream so wide. 
Where I would be free from the world's mad ride. 

Floating down froim there — somewhere — 
A form hovered o'er like glimmering air; 
A wing did brush my hand aside 
That held the poison for lips oped wide. 

And into m.y life these notes were struck ; 

Which my soul grasped quick, did fairly suck 
All the meaning of strings that played 
To a Heart I thought almost decayed. 

'The world has need of thee, of thee, 

Live! O, live! Eor a man of power ye'll he. 

Power to hurl strong Sin from its throne; 

This angel waits for thee alone/' 

Brushed by an angel's pure, white wing — 

Todav I live to sing, O, sing ! 

That wing did brush sin-clouds away. 
And light came into my soul some way. 



THE OZARK HARPIST 



a Crance Dream* 

/ had a dream! I had a dream! and yet it ivas not all a dream. 

I thought that I had outworn my earthly habitation, 

And feeling- my home crumbling and falling from me, 

I left its ruins and sailed out into the aerial ocean. 

I steered me straight to Heaven; the gate was barred and 

locked ; 
I could not enter. Turning sadly, a great and powerful 
Aerial current bore me downward to Hell. 
The great, wide-gaping mouth of Hell 
Threw out its fire and smoke with so much force 
That it swept me earthward. 

Upon approaching the earth, a beautiful, white cloud enveloped 

me, 
And looking forthward. I beheld these words 
Written in letters of Mystery : 

UNIVERSAL LAW: UNIVERSAL WISDOM: 
And pouring out of the great white mist, 
This understanding came to my soul : 

"Thou child of fate ! You must still tread the path of nature. 
Through nature you came into the world by the law of birth ; 
From breath to breath you lived by the law of life ; 
With the ceasing of breath you came forth by the law of death ; 
Enter thou now into the great Law of the Hereafter, 
Which is the continuance of nature." 

A colossal, white portal opened and it sucked me in by the 

force of its power. 
A voice said : "You poor, weary child of blessed and cruel 

nature. 
We will now put you to rest and sleep." 
As if by magic, unseen hands laid me out 
On a soft, velvet couch and drew the curtains of slumber 

around me. 

I folded my hands and peacefully and quietly went to sleep ; 
Wrapped in the arms of Continued Nature, rocked in the cradle 
Of the great Law of the Hereafter. 

But when I went to sleep, / awoke. 



THE OZAFvK HARPIST 



Cf)e !&elple$0 Cf)ilDren, 

Stretched across the murky heavens is the shadow of a Hand, 

That is reaching down and after little children in the land. 

A power that rules unjustly, through usurpation swayed by 

might, 
A power that rules in darkness because it's afraid of light. 

Stretched across the bold, bald heavens is the image of a Hand, 
That rules and sways and governs all things in the land — 
A Hand that knows no mercy ! An iron Hand of steel, 
Reaching after little children for to grind them by its heel ! 

Stretched across the sunlit heavens is the onward, righteous 

Hand, 
That would harbor little children — all the children in the land. 
Clear the path of brier so thornv, where childish feet have trod, 
Lead them on and on so gently TILL THBV LEARN TO 

WALK WITH GOD. 



The Church of Rome. Commercialism, and the enlightened 
powers of advanced knowledge are the three powers contend- 
ing for the children of the present time. 



OBitter Spirit, 1 15iD Cfjee Depatt 

O, Bitter Spirit, of stirring animosity ; 

Thou hast sojourned long within my heart. 
A guest once welcome I harbored you, 

But ope now I, the door, and bid you to depart. 
Through winters long and summer weather. 
Through fall and spring we've supped together. 

And your bitter water flowed and flowed 

All through my life as though there sowed. 

Wronged was I by kindred folk ! 

The Spirit of Justice they did not know ; 
And surging up from out my soul 

The bitter tears did roll and roll. 

O, that I could stem your rushing tide! 

O, that I could lock my gates 'ganst your flow, 
O, again, Bitter Spirit, I bid thee depart! 
Leave your deep settle within my Heart! 



THE OZARK HARPIST 



One day I saw a man's head sink 
Upon his broad, strong breast. 

His eyes cast down did shrink 
From those who would molest. 

His hand on gray-haired temple laid, 
To hide the trace of tears which down his cheeks had rolled- 
A Heart by nature made in a form of beefy mold. 

I felt the pain that was swelling 

All through his suffering heart ; 
No need there was of the telling 
How the huge sobs choked apart. 

He had tuned his Heart to one of younger years, 
Who responded not to his deep, love tone. 
She turned a deaf ear and her love-light jeers, 
For it s'hines on another who clasped his own. 

Her love found rest in- the other's breast. 
And she bade farewell to a Heart that had doled, 
The tune was broken — the chords at best 
Could only wail in this old-heart breast. 

The head that sank upon the broad, strong chest, 
Gave them his blessing — wished them well — 
Told them he loved her — ha ! ha ! but she knew best 
Where to set her life in this world a spell. 

But the tune zvas broken, the music all fled ; 

And a man's eyes now have a wan, dead light. 

A voice bare and hollow, its ring is dead — 

Since the broken tune stopped his old Heart's flight. 



Cfje Crp of 3fusitice» 

Charity, for thee no voice would cry if Justice had not been 

bidden to fly, 
But when the most Righteous, prostrated by fear. 
When robbed and shorn of her garments dear, 

Fled from the land of human mold. 

Then in her place was charity doled. 



THE OZARK HARPIST 



Charity, dealt by the hands that strike! 
Strike out the rights of the helpless poor ! 
Charity, dealt by the hand that makes 
Our lean joys and comforts fewer? 
Charity dealt by the thieves in power! 
Power to make good, honest souls to cower ? 

Let all such charity die. And give, O give us sweet Justice, we 

cry. 
Justice! sweet Justice! is all we ask. 
And in her righteous ways we will fondly bask ; 

For if Justice stand by and take her part, 
There'll he no fear of Hunger's smart. 

Send Charity forth from out of the wold, 
We've enough and to spare if Justice be bold. 

We need not the look of Pity's old face 

K Justice be in her rank and place. 
The name of Charity sounds not sweet. 
When it stands in place of Justice feet. 

We're supposed to be grateful and thankful,^ too, 
For the charitable hand that feeds the poor ; 
Biit if lazvs were made to protect the poor, 

No charity is needed, I am sure. 
Give the people a thought in afifairs of state. 
Then they need not worry about their fate. 

So when charity comes from those in power, 

'Tis only a part of our own that they give to us 

As a bone to a dog ! that they may further the role of a hog. 

Bring Justice back and bid Charity flee — 

We have no use for her stinging plea, 

For with Justice it's easy for one another 

To cherish and love our zvorld-zuide brother. 



This poem is not meant to discourage charity, but to show 
the attributes of justice, which is love in the highest sense. As 
long as we have the present existing conditions, charity donors 
should receive great credit if they give in the right spirit. We 
cannot dispense with charity until justice is established. Justice 
here means that all those who are willing to work should be 
entitled to life and the pursuit of happiness. 



10 THE OZARK HARPIST 

lBulJtiIe0* 

"The land hath bubbles as the zvater hath, and zve are of them." 

Bubbles born of water, bubbles born of land ! 
Out of sight goes one, vanisheth the other, 
Back to the cradle rocked by each good mother. 
Cuddled and fondled by the tide 

Of the ocean rough so far and wide, 
The little bubbles rise; and in their desire to reach the 
skies, 
They spring from the arms that loved them well, 
And as thev go their pride doth swell — 
But one whiff of the wind 
Or kiss of the sun 
Shatters their glory ; life is done. 

The bubbles of earth rise up in their might. 
And make for themselves a good, strong fight. 

But the winds and tides of earthly life 
Are too much to stem for they die in the strife. 
Some bubbles are stronger and will last longer. 
While others are weaklings and babes in the struggle, 
And soon, all too soon, in the bosom of earth they do smuggle. 

Will the time ever come when these bubbles will break 

The suction that draws and drinks in their life. 

And which closes o'er on life more and more? 

These bubbles that burst from the bubbling land. 

And climb life's stairs on driveling sand. 

Are all sucked in by the mouth of tim^e. 

For more and more bubbles to chant the chime. 



Life will mean something more than a bubble as soon as 
the people comprehend the truth of scientific Soulism. 



THE OZARK HARPIST 11 



Cl)e JFling anD ^tuing of ®uD* 

On the bed of a mighty ocean, 

At the bottom of the deep, deep sea, 
Are found the dregs of life's great flow — 

Yea, even the dregs of you and me. 

O'erhead the roaring, tumbling waters 

Resound and splash aerial spray; 
But the coarse-ground spread of the ocean bed 

Shouts forth a muddy fray. 

O, they fling the mud with a vengeance ! 

And they work the mud with a will !_ 
They toss the mud right up to the heigihts 

Where it crumbles and falls — doth kill. 

These players in mud see only mud ; 

Clay eyes see naught but clay ; 
If among them ONE with sight doth come, 

SNUFFED IS HIS LIGHT— m mud they pray. 

O, the whales and sharks of plunder, 

That shake this ocean bed, 
As they snort and blow up mud ! mud ! mud ! 

Until mud itself, its vein is bled. 

The bleeding vein doth take them 

To other planes less dense; 
But back come the dregs from siftmg. 

To roll in the mud intense. 

O, the mermaid here on this mud sphere, 
Artfully sings enchanting song; 

Thrilling mud souls till they shout and smg 
Bless all of this old mud throng, 
With its mud-heart strong, so-long, so-long ! 

■ Down on the bed of a mighty ocean. 

At the bottom of the deep, deep sea ; _ 
We are flinging and tossing and playmg m mud, 
Yea, even the dregs of you and me. 



12 THE OZARK HARPIST 

laoii SDU t\)t ^uD. 

Companion Piece to "The Swing and Fling oe Mud." 

On a mighty ocean's bed 
Beautiful gods dived down through waters deep. 
Here the mermaid wove for them soft, grass pillows, 
Enchantingly sung their hearts to sleep. 

But now and then a god rises and wakens, 
Looks forth from his bed — ah, hear him cry ! 

For white wings are loaded with slime and mud 
But a mad world tells him he doth lie ! 

Ah, cries the god, my wings won't bear me ! 
They break ! and down I come with a thud. 

I cannot ascend on the true path glory — 
With world I must wrestle! / must roll of this mud! 

O, the many million mud-gods in their deep, sound sleep, 
Snored out a snort! breathed out sneers and railing jeers. 

But the awakened one, freed from his fettered load. 
Arose and ascended to s\ov\— LEAVING BEHIND HIS 
CROSS OF TEARS. 



€:bt Daisp jTIotoer, 

The seed of a daisy flower was sown, 
In the dark, damp earth — I heard its moan ! 
Racked with pain till its shell did burst. 
Then into the light it was immersed. 

Drinking the light, it grew, and grew, 

Pressing oft its lips to the morning dew. 

Blossoms so pretty, blossoms so rare. 

And some are now twined in my breath-colored hair. 

The flowers in my hair dried, and away were tossed ; 
Others just dried from their own dear cost. 
They must wither, to live again of their kind. 
For we must have daisies * * * in ihair to wind. 



THE OZARK HARPIST 13 



Cfje Cf)ri0t CI)ilD ^lumfiering. 

Standing- on topmost round of earth's ladder, 
Three sirens are singing all day — 

EDUCATI9N: CULTURE: CUSTOM 
Singing with power in a luring way. 
And we're moved to press the rounds 
Reaching to these enchanting sounds, 
While we leave down at the foot of the hill 
The Christ Child of Learning slumbering still. 

Yea ! the spark but not burning, 

The Christ Child of Learning 
Unconscious in earth slumbering still 
In its rude crib at the foot of the hill — 

While we scale the mountains. 

Traverse plains of great glory. 
And scoff and sneer at the sweet, old story, 

''THAT TAUGHT US HOW TO LIVE. 



a frosty Spring 

When beautiful Spring was bourne to her throne, 
As she passed through the gates of Winter, 

Her attendants forgot and left them ajar, 
And thought not, as they sailed in the imperial car, 

How their queen would feel the oppression 
Of the frostv king as he encroached on her realm 
And made her steer with unsteady helm. 

Spring tried her best to govern serenely ; 
But the Frost King drove such blasts of his breath 

Through the open gates of his frozen land 
That the bright queen wept. 

Then came to her aid her first-born March, 
Who blew and blew and blew with such strength, 

That the gates went shut in old Winter's land ; 
Then Spring grasped the held with a steady hand. 



=^^'Yes, the Christ Child still sleeps in the world's heart, 
But the world varnished and gilded the manger. 



14 THE OZARK HARPIST 



[This poem was written twenty years ago for my little son to 
recite at a school entertainment.] 

Every one seems to think that a boy 

Is of no more importance 
Than a dog era toy ; 

But soon they will know, 

That we boys can grow, 
And then over them 

We will most surely crow. 

But boys must be good. 

And not mind these afflictions. 
And always be careful 

To escape maledictions ; 
For the time is coming 

When we boys will rule. 
And then they will know 

That a boy is no fool. 



Mbo Mas Sbc? 

I saw a woman weeping vipon her Lover's breast. 
So still the air I scarce did breathe 
Lest I should desecrate the sheathe 
Which mantled them. 

Drawing near I saw no throbs did issue from her breast, 
But in my own I felt the sobs 
Of one who choked the throbs 
Bursting the heart. 

No tear-drops fell from eyelids hid by her lover's breast. 
But. O such breathless silence 
Which seemed to speak defiance 
Of one to know. 

Still the woman's head lay tight upon her lover's breast. 
Through sympathy I stroked her auburn hair. 
She raised her head all lit with amber flare — 
BEHOLD MYSELF! 



THE OZARK HARPIST 15 



Cl)e €tnckcti Dusit* 

I liked her voice, I liked her looks, 

And although I knew she had banished crooks, 

I, a young plute of worldly mein, 

Asked her to be a lordling's queen. 

Smilingly into my eyes she cast 
A look, that with me will always last. 
To the window she turned : 
"Do you see that light ? That is my guide 
And it bids me not to be your bride." 

"Your heart is carved of worldly dust, 
So thick it has eaten through the crust ; 
Think you, that I with my heart clean 
Would join it to yours where the dust would drean ?' 

I left her smiling there alone, 
Felt I, like a dog that had lost its bone. 
But she sure did crack the set, dried dust 
Of a heart of clay, that for her did lust. 



Zbe Species Moman 

[Written after reading Kipling's "Peniale of the Species." 

Deadly is the brand upon her, 
Seared there by a bard of might ; 
Deadly ! deadly ! thou, O woman, 
Take thy presence out of sight. 

Lock thv doors and bar thy windows, 
O, my brothers, without fail. 
To keep out the species ivonian — 
She would harm the gentle male. 

Deadly is the brand upon her, 

iSeared there by a bard of might ; 

AND THE CRUEL, DEADLY P EM ALES 

UP AND KICKED HIM OUT OP SIGHT. 



16 



THE OZARK HARPIST 




With prophetic ton,2:ue of fire, 

I venture to strum its lyre ; 

And sound the bells of future chimes 

Which lack the rin^^ of present times. 

I make bold to state mv predictions — 
Not fearing for any evictions, 
'That the earth and heaven will surely meet, 
And found them a common field to greet. 

Gladly I mention : that when, as earth sups at her table 
Guests from heaven ('twill be no fable), 
Will commune with friends as they did of yore. 
Before they sailed hence to the silent shore. 

Further I state with my innate might 
That our blind eyes shall receiev their sight — - 
That our deaf ears will be attuned to catch 
Our next door neighbor as he clicks the latch. 

Earth and heaven as one shall be. 
As soon as earth rolls from under the sea 
Of the lust for gold in the hearts of men — 
Which chains them under like beasts in a pen. 

I shout it and cry it that all may hear ! 
That DEATH shall be minus its sting of fear. 
The GRAVE OF VICTORY shall vanish as night, 
When the JUST SUN rises and spreads its light. 

'Our Father who art holy, thy kingdom come on earth 
As it is in heaven" — that prayer which seems a dearth. 
Will bear its fruit in the far off time, 
When more bells peal that future chime. 



^ 



^ 



THE OZARK HARPIST IT 



CtJe i^eatt Cfjat ^ink0 a^ap iRige ^gain^ 

That day, when you I met, 

I knew not, 

That my Heart from a slumber 

Of great length 

Roused and greeted you 

With more than usual warmth. 

I did not know. 

That there was a stirring of the waters, 

Felt not the tiny ripples that did roll. 

As days passed, — 
. And when I saw you more, — 
And better knew your mind, 
A desire there was 
To linger in your presence — 
Hear your voice and note your ways. 
My Heart hath so long slept I said, 
That it, no man hath more the power to waken. 
So, I rested easy as we mingled in our ways. 
And we walked, talked and strolled together, 
And I knew not my Heart had chained and tethered. 

Ah! did I not say to you, 
That lying on the bed of many waters deep, 
My Heart entombed in silence sleeps and sleeps? 
For years it hath so slept ; and will continue so to do ; 
And no one can or dares fa rouse or stir it from its numb, 
cold rest. 

But when one day you came 
To say to me goodbye, 

And said that far awav vou needs must go, 
Then the thousand milhon bars did rise before me 
That in absence barred myself from you. 
Then I felt a trembling of the deep. Spread waters, 
And a Heart that slnmbered did arise— _ 
Stretched out its spirit-arms of sunlight air to hold you, 
And in the silence a wail and riven cry zvent out to you — 
When on that day you came 
• To say to me GOODBYE. 



18 THE OZARK HARPIST 



CfjeCrpof IBlooD* 

Hark ! Up from the ground is heard a cry ! 

'Tis the cry that cried through ages of years ! 
Too busy the world for such direful wailing — 

The world could not barter in celestial tears. 

Hark ! hark ! 'Tis the cry of victims 
Of that terrible, bloody past ! 
WHO WERE GROUND BY THE PAPAL JAWS OF 
ROME! 
Seized and craunched by that terrible beast of beasts, 
That weilded sceptred tyranny over home and throne. 

Oh! Horror! O, list! That human blood 

That dripped from those huge, cavernous jaws 

Wherein rumbled the thunders of Hell ! 

That good blood spilled on the ground and silenced a spell, 

Now breaks forth in a loud, vengeful yell. 

That great iron hoof did strike down in its might 
Sweet, innocent lambs so white ; 

On the souled flesh of martyrs Rome did feed and feed. 
But a rushed world was busy and did not heed. 

Now, after long aeons, does Rome hear the cry. 

Which it thought hushed in the hour of its temporal might. 

But cries of the dead are a hundred times trebled. 

And now Rome like a weak child cries out in the night. 

The .Past is not dead, nor buried or silenced, 

IT LIVES! IT CRIES OUT! IT LIVES! 
Those cries did arise, flew swiftly, and surely, 
To their spirit of power which did harbor and shelter, 
Then sent them forth with triumph to swelter. 

So hark ye, O world ! to the spilled blood of the martyrs. 

That cries from the ground today — 
Crying for vengeance! for strong souls and mighty, 

TO PALSY ROME'S FETICH, INFAMOUS SWAY! 

The Church of Rome is now suffering for its past terrible 
deeds. Neither a church or an individual can escape sins of 
the past. In the cycle of years the injured souls come back 
and spiritually stare the guilty in the face and will not depart 
until the debt is paid in full. 



THE OZAKK HARPIST 19 



%bt EeacfteD !J)er place* 

Cold and cloud_y the day, 

As she wandered her way 

Towards the path of life^he desired. 

The hour was late, 

But this woman with gait. 

Pushed on in the world 

For her place in its life. 

Drip ! drip ! fell cold rain 

On her tangled hair, 

Nip ! nip ! gnawed the world 

At her cold, famished Heart ! 

This woman cared not 

For the rank of those 

Who walk the streets in fashion's clothes — 

^he was one of the few 

Who determined to stem 

The tide of the times; and the world 

Made her suffer for slighting its chimes. 

Drip! drip! fell cold rain 

On her aching brow, 

Nip ! nip ! gnawed the world 

At her ardent vow ! 

But list! as she's about to faint from strife, 

Comes there succor ahead — behold her life. 

And she brightens and cheers 

As she realized here. 

That at last she breathed PO WBR 

And could stem the tide. 

Drip ! drip ! fell the rain 

On her upturned face, 

Nip ! nip ! gnawed the world 

Till she reached her place. 



20 THE OZARK HARPIST 



Ci)e Dtifting IBoau 

We're all afloat in a drifting boat. 

As we sail down the stream of life. 
Most oars are resting with no molesting, 

W'hile the current carries them through. 

And as on we sail, each withering gale 

But hastens the boat into port ; 
For the wind is but feed to the current steed, 

T;hat lunges us on to the end. 

Where is this port, or famous fort. 

Immune from the ills of the fles'h? 
Do we know for sure, that it will endure 

All that we have in mind ? 

But well we know, as onward we go, 

We are climbing the earth-made stair — 
And the world hath spurs, like snapping curs. 

To make us climb the steep. 

And on we ride with rapid tide, 

Till we reach our end of day. 
May our burdens roll, as we press shoal 

Away from our life away. 

BUT WELL I DO KNOW THAT, THAT OTHER 
SHORE 
IS BUT THE SAME OLD STRAND, 
AND AS OUR LIFE HERE MAKES OUR LIFE 
THERE, 
THEN IT MUST BE THE SAME OLD LAND. 



Human HMants 

Seeds of the Highest we mortals, all ; 
Sown in the darkness of world-made night, 
Groping our way towards eternal light. 
What wonder that some do stumble and fall. 

What shall the harvest be, O Lord? 
When thy plants choke and parch with pain, 
Cmised by the dust the zcorld flings up, 
Till they cannot breathe thy gentle rain. 



THE OZARK HARPIST 21 



Smite it! Brothers, smite it! 

Smite that huge rock through — 

Which so long has kept from you 

The breath of life like morning dew. 

On your great, broad shoulders rests it ; 

xA.nd your strength of back does breast it, 

While your sinewy arms do brace 

And bear on you that burden down. 

More and more that load oppresses — 

More and more you stoop beneath it ; 

Lash and crack of whip no more can make 

Your bruised feet speed the way. 

You are tired. Brothers — weary; 

Stop and ask an anxious query, 

xA.s to why that Rock should bear you down. 

Why should it crush your falling body? 

Why should it damn your patient soul? 

Why should it frown with rumbling thunder? 

Why shouldn't you stop and stare and wonder? 

Brothers ! that Rock ! Smite it right down ! 

Why should it run you through and through — 

With its craggy, jutted sides. 

And so much else besides. 

Which makes your life so fraught with misery and woe? 

'Tis because you've shouldered burdens 

Which those adamantines cast upon you — 

Through all the ages pinned you down. 

With their vaulted up opinions. 

So that they could make their millions — 

For you meekly coined the ore, 

While they burdened all the more. 

Smite it! Brothers, smite it! 
Smite that Rock clean in two — 
Get at the Heart and calk its beating. 
Stop its breath with no retreating; 
Break down towers, both old and new, 
That you planned and built all through 
At the bidding of the mongrel word. 
Split that head and draw those entrals out ! 
Brain-guts puffed with swollen pride and privilege, 
Rout them out! 



22 THE OZARK HARPIST 



There's no other ivay of doing, 

Than to rise up zvith the tide, 

And proclaim yourselves as legion ; 

Ye are of the brawny region. 

And your folded, bracken brawn is mightier in its rest 

Than all the tools which but delay your souls behest. 

Smite it ! Brothers, smite it ! 

Smite that Rock clean up and through ! 

Slash it all way up and all round through ! 

Chop it into a splintered wall — 

That old, black Rock of blackest, towering pall ! 

The capitalist hath reared it, 

And all our lives we've feared it, 

So loose your arms and let it go. 

The weary backs, no longer can they bear it, 

And the shoulders are too weak to stoop and loop on its 

burdens any more. 
Wage slaves are sick and dreary. 
But they're not so very leary, 
For they press on to the fore — 
Press they on to battle door. 

Smite it ! Brothers, smite it ! 

Smite that Rock clean round and up and through ! 

Smite it till it leans and totters, 

Keep from it your laving waters — 

Smite it into shattered frame and brashy brown ! 

Smite that Rock and make it tremble ! 

Smite that Rock and make it bendle! 

Smite it till it cr.ies out all round ! 

Smite that Rock ! O, Brothers, smite it ! 

Smite it till it mumbles and crumbles ! 

Smite it till it rumtoles and tumbles ! 

Smite it till it all falls down. 

Then blow that Rock into powdered cinders ! 

Raze it to atoms through all that hinders ! 

Smite that rock ! BE BOLD AND SMITE IT! 

SMITE IT TILL IT WEARS NO CROWN! 



The Rock means Special Privilege, Graft. Private Owner- 
ship of Public Utilities, and Legislation for the Gormandized 
Few at the Expense of the Many. 



THE OZARK HARPIST 23 



jTigfjt for tbt laigtJt 

All honor and glory to the strong ones of earth, 
Who will pauperize the Powers of greed, 
And give to the paupers of their need. 

Holy, holy, holy 
Ones strong and mighty with power in defense of Right. 

Crown them with glory, glory, 
All those who will up and fight ! 
Fight with their might for Right ! 
Fight for the death of power 
That steals from earth's children their dower. 
Fight ! Fight ! Fight ! 

O, all ye poor children of dearth, 
Lawful theirs to the bounties of earth ! 

Shout ! shout ! for VICTORY ! 



a Clencbeb Star 

A star shone out from the vaulted East, 
And shed out its beams o'er the world's stair-way ; 

A shred of a woman walked in its light 
And upward it bore her along the way. 

But one da}^ she felt that its light had failed, — 
And she pined and drooped like a sickly weed, — 

O, poor little shred of humanity frail, 
You are living though dead and held in a vise. 

Held in a vise by the grip of two hands ; 
Hands that forbade your star to shine ; 

Clenched and grappled and choked out its light! 
For he chained you all, the jealous Heart! 

This beefy form in human mold 
Shut out your star ! your star of life ! 

And guideless and lifeless your pathway is doled, 
Because of this monster of masculine might ! 

O woman ! O woman ! let your star shine bright ; 
And if Man would wrench its beams from thee. 

Better wrench thy Heart from human so rude 
Than to give up its light which shines for thee. 




ALYS HALE 

(Alice G. Milue) 



LIBRftRY OF CONGRESS 




// /^ //; C^.^Z^^ 015 g2g ■■g2y"'J 




H. Q. PUOH PRiNTINQ CO., LITTLE ROCK, ARK. 



